128 TO THE DAISY. TO THE DAISY. WITH little here to do or see Thou unassuming commonplace Oft on the dappled turf at ease Loose types of things through all degrees, And many a fond and idle name A nun demure, of lowly port; Of all temptations; A queen in crown of rubies drest; TO THE DAISY. A little Cyclops, with one eye That thought comes next-and instantly The shape will vanish, and behold! I see thee glittering from afar- Yet like a star, with glittering crest, Sweet Flower! for by that name at last I call thee, and to that cleave fast, That breath'st with me in sun and air, W. Wordsworth. Modern Poets. 9 129 130 A DEAD ROSE. A DEAD ROSE. O ROSE! who dares to name thee? No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet; But barren, and hard, and dry as stubble-wheat, The breeze that used to blow thee If breathing now-unsweetened would forego thee. The sun that used to smite thee, Till beam appeared to bloom and flower to burn— The dew that used to wet thee, And, white first, grew incarnadined, because If dropping now-would darken where it met thee. The fly that lit upon thee, To stretch the tendrils of its tiny feet If lighting now-would coldly overrun thee. A DEAD ROSE. The bee that once did suck thee, And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive, The heart doth recognise thee, 131 Alone, alone! The heart doth smell thee sweet, Yes, and the heart doth owe thee More love, dead rose! than to such roses bold Lie still upon this heart, which breaks below thee! E. B. Browning. 132 THE DAFFODILS. THE DAFFODILS. I WANDERED lonely as a cloud A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Continuous as the stars that shine Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they In such a jocund company: I gazed-and gazed-but little thought For oft, when on my couch I lie W. Wordsworth. |